Tombstones
by Babylon By Candlelight
Summary: Graves look the same no matter what coast you're on...
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**_ The BSC is not mine. You couldn't make me claim ownership.

It is in the nature of humans to change their mind. In their song _Calling All Angels_, Train once said, "All we want is only what we want until it's ours." True in so many respects – people get married to the 'love of their life', only to divorce a few years later. A second chance comes along, and a few years more go by – then, suddenly, the other shoe drops. History is a vicious cycle.

I never thought I'd miss Carol.

I never thought I'd be so ashamed of my father. It's one thing to cheat on your wife – it's a completely different matter to tell her how she only had herself to blame. How his girlfriend could give him what she couldn't. Never mind that not only was Carol recovering from going into premature labour from a child that was supposed to be impossible, but that she lost the baby as well.

My father claims that he was acting out because of his grief. All I could think about in the days following the blow up was my mother's voice four years ago, calling me selfish, immature and all those words from when I flew to Connecticut without permission. About how Jeff told me later how Dad called Carol those things in their fight while I was gone. And in thinking about those days so long ago, I wondered when my father had become the world's biggest hypocrite.

It was meeting the girlfriend that drove Carol over the edge. It wasn't the fact that she was young, about four years younger than her, but that she looked strikingly like my mother. I don't know why my father couldn't see it – everyone else did. Maybe he just pretended it was a coincidence. He's been doing a lot of pretending lately. He pretends he doesn't feel guilty about what happened – at least, I hope he's pretending. Guilt would mean that someday, I might forgive him. I might be able to look at him with something other than disgust and horror, and even the slightest bit of hatred.

And until then, I will be somewhere that I don't have to look at him.

The day before my plane left for Connecticut, I went to see Carol. It was hard walking up those steps, going through the cast-iron gates. It was the first time since the actual funeral I had been to see her – the first time in four months. I hadn't been able to deal with the memories until now, and even at the moment I wasn't sure I could handle it. Still, I knelt down beside her grave and cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Hey Carol… sorry I haven't been up here. I know Jeff came here last month before he went off to that boarding school in San Diego. I remember how proud you were when he got accepted with a partial scholarship. He misses you… I guess I do too." My voice broke momentarily and I had to stop talking for a minute to blink back tears. I was tired of crying, and I was a bit shocked my tear supply hadn't run out by this point. I swallowed hard and continued, "I'm leaving again. I know I said that this move was final, but… I can't stand it. _She's_ at the house all the time – sorry, you probably don't want to hear that. I just can't stand being in the same house as the two of them, especially now that Jeff's gone. I only stayed this long because of Gracie, but now that your mother has her… Carol, I just _can't_. I'm sorry."

I wasn't even sure what I was apologizing for. I felt like I was running out on _her,_ even though she wasn't here anymore. No matter what I did, I felt like it was my fault. Like, if I had been home more often, if I had been stronger _for_ her, then Jeff and I wouldn't have walked in on… I let out a soft cry and shook my head, getting up and sprinting from the cemetery. I still couldn't face it. Not now, maybe not ever.

The next morning, I was on a plane. I had been on many planes in my life, always going to the same place. Ever since the divorce, I had seen Stoneybrook as a safe haven, a place to run to when things got too tough. No matter how much I denied it, it would always be a sanctuary, somewhere that I could go to hide from the world. Never had I seen it as an actual home. As I stepped off the plane and into my mother's embrace, I wondered if it could ever become anything more than a last resort.

The ride home was not surprising. Mary Anne wasn't there, as she hadn't been for the past two years when I came for vacations. Richard had opted out this time as well, which disappointed me a little, but altogether didn't shock me. My mother chattered nervously, although I'm not sure why. In the past, she knew that she only had a few weeks to 'play nicely' with me, but this time, there wasn't anything she could possibly do to send me running back to my father. She didn't mention Mary Anne or Richard at all except to make skittish apologies for their absence. I wondered if she would apologize if she knew the reason why Mary Anne and I sit through time together in cold silence. I wondered if she knows that Mary Anne isn't the only one who can hold a grudge.

I was suddenly gripped and I had to take a moment to mentally shake myself. I've avoided this place as much as possible for the last two years, and now it's the only house I have left to turn to. It almost makes me laugh how instead of going to the place I feel safest in my time of need, I'm now merely forced to choose between the lesser of two evils. And it takes me a moment to get over the irony that my father has replaced my step-sister as that evil. When did my life get so screwed up?

I didn't have long to contemplate this question, since my mother stepped out of the car and gave me a questioning look. I pulled myself together, something I found I had to do more and more often these days, and followed her dutifully into the house after picking up my suitcases from the back of the car. With a nod in Richard's direction and a tight, forced smile to my step-sister, I ran upstairs, suitcases in tow. Needless to say, I was winded when I got to the top of the stairs, but it was worth not having to feel the lingering gaze of that brunette traitor downstairs.

Author's Note: Yes, it's pretty short, but it's only the first chapter. I'm surprised I wrote this much, as I'm horribly sick. Still, forgive the lack of content and any discernable plot yet – it'll all come together soon. Any guesses about Mary Anne this early on?


	2. Chapter 2

For perhaps the first time ever directly following a move, I started school in late August with everyone else. When I first moved to Stoneybrook, I came in while the semester was already in session, and of course I transferred back to California mid-year as well. It was a bit of a relief now to know I'd start my senior year at the same time as the rest of my class. As I walked through the school's halls, it became apparent that not many people remembered me – or at least recognized me. I wasn't too surprised; most of my acquaintances knew me as the girl with the long white-blonde hair, and both length and colour were gone. It had not been by personal choice that a few months ago I had walked into the hair salon to lose my tresses, but a result of a particularly bratty niece of Carol's I had gotten roped into baby-sitting for.

Her name was Monica, and that should have been a clue right there. Monica looked like an angel – gold ringlets that reached to her waist, pale skin that was uncommon in our part of California but nevertheless made her look as though she were made of porcelain, and deep blue eyes. My second clue should have been that despite the lovely appearance and seemingly sweet demeanor of this six-year-old child, no one else was willing to watch her for an afternoon. The word "Sucker" was practically written on the faces of her parents as they dashed out the door.

Meet Monica. Among other loud, messy, destructive hobbies, Monica liked to chew gum. And as I tried to pull her away from one of her countless messes of the day, Monica, in full tantrum-mode, took her gum out of her mouth and smashed it into my hair.

Later that evening, Jeff, Mrs. Bruen and I tried countless remedies to remove the gum, but all that we accomplished was making a bigger, stickier mess at the nape of my neck. The next day, I closed my eyes and tried not to cry as for the first time I could remember, I could feel the air conditioning on the back of my neck. I wished that Carol had been there to hold my hand.

Three months had passed since then, and because I eventually gotten used to the chin-length layered hairstyle, it half-surprised me when the new look startled someone else. At the airport, it had taken my own mother a few moments to recognize me, but there was no real shock about that – after my hair had become short, it darkened in colour. Gone also was the ethereal white-blonde colouration that had set me apart from everyone else, only to be replaced with a darker, richer yellow.

I finally made it to first period, only a little disappointed that not a single "hello" had been cast my way in the halls. I took a seat near the front, one of the last remaining desks and sat through roll. As the teacher got to the "S's", a sudden concern gripped me – had my mother enrolled me at Stoneybrook High School not using "Dawn" as my given name as I had asked her to, but instead –

"Dawn Schafer?" the teacher called, and I cursed my mother silently.

"It's Read Schafer, actually," I corrected.

"Oh? I have you down as 'Dawn'," the teacher insisted, and I sighed, irritation building up.

"I go by 'Read', it's my middle name," I all but snapped back. "I was supposed to be enrolled as Read; the office must have made a mistake."

The teacher looked momentarily taken aback, but then smiled and said, "All right, let me just change that for my records, and we'll continue."

After first period, I ran out in the hall and pulled out my cell phone, dialing furiously. I only had seven minutes between classes to get this done, and my impatience grew with every ring.

"Mother!" I exclaimed as soon as she picked up, "You didn't enroll me like I asked you to!"

"Oh! Dawn sweetie, I'm so sorry," she responded, sounding distracted, "I completely forgot. You go to class and I'll call the office and make the correction right now."

"Thanks Mom," I replied, slightly mollified and calming down, "sorry I yelled like that."

By fourth period, everything was as it should be. I didn't have to correct the teacher when my name was called, therefore cutting out the "but it says Dawn" argument that all teachers seem determined to have with me. I didn't understand why they couldn't take me at my word that I'd like to be called Read, no matter what the attendance sheet said.

It had been almost a full day where no one had talked to me when I hear a voice behind me as I walked to my last class.

"Read, huh? Dawn's just not good enough for you anymore?"

I whirled around, ready to give whoever said that a piece of my mind, when I came face to face with a laughing Kristy.

"Oh! Kristy! Yeah, I just… I figured… Well, it's a long story," I finished lamely, not wanting to go into it here, now, in the middle of the hall. Or, gee, ever. Even now, just trying to figure a way to get out of saying anything about it was making my stomach lurch. I winced slightly, although I was becoming used to the empty pain in my stomach. At least lunch had been a few hours ago, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to eat anything. Dinner was already feeling iffy – after stomach pains like these, I would often lose my appetite and even ability to eat for the rest of the day.

"Uhm… okay," Kristy replied, looking a little confused at my reaction, which was to be expected – I had just freaked out over what was a little casual teasing. "Anyway, I heard you were back – Dori Wallingford's in your third period? Yeah, she told me at lunch, and I've been looking for you ever since."

I grinned wryly, "Let me guess, the hair threw you off?"

"No, actually. I mean, it was a bit of a surprise, but it was the way you slouch over that made it tough. I'm used to watching for the tall California stride, and… well, your walk has changed," she responded, shrugging.

Now I was the one who was surprised – Kristy knew the way I walked? Even more importantly, I was slouching? I checked my posture and realized she was right; I was a little folded into myself. I straightened up, harbouring no desire to grow a hump on my back in my later years. Kristy looked at me wide-eyed for a moment, and then started to laugh. I blushed slightly, ducked my head, and started to laugh too.

"No, sorry, it's just… nice to see not everything's changed!" Kristy exclaimed in between laughs, lightly hitting my arm. I nodded slightly, feeling a bit sheepish about how seriously I had taken her, but her laughter made it hard to dwell on it. "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi, see if maybe you wanted to hang out later this week," she continued, grinning.

"Oh, okay, sure," I replied, a little less enthusiastically. Hang out with Kristy? It had been a few years, granted, but I didn't know if she and my step-sister were still the close friends they were last time I was here.

"All right…" she trailed off, obviously put off by my lack of a sincere response. Before I could re-assure her that it wasn't a problem I had with her, she shrugged and turned. "Whatever, anyway - I'll talk to you later then, I guess," Kristy finished, and then walked off without another word.

Just great, I thought to myself as I continued to my sixth period, now compulsively checking my posture despite myself. This day was even more disappointing now that the prospect of an actual social life had come and gone. Oh, stop it, I chastised myself, God Dawn, it's only the first day. Kristy walking away isn't the end of the world.

Although I had made the decision about switching to my middle name months ago, right after… after it had happened, I couldn't stop referring to myself as 'Dawn' in my head, nor did I ask my mother or Richard to call me Read. It would be too much trouble to explain such a seemingly insignificant thing to the two of them, especially since I couldn't explain it to myself, or admit to darker history behind it.

Besides, it would make my mother cry, and that wasn't something I could deal with.

I ran straight home that day, not wanting to stick around the outside world when there was nothing or no one for me in it. I missed my Toyota Prius immensely as I jogged up towards my house, wishing I could have flown it with me across the country. I made a mental note to start looking for a job; after all, even though I could probably manage to walk around Stoneybrook on foot, unlike Palo City, I would need money to spend. My old job at Au Natural, a health food store/juice bar, had paid only minimum wage, but it had given me enough to put half towards my car, something that now was a futile effort. I briefly toyed with the idea of asking Sunny to come down for a visit – and to drive across the country in my car, then go back on a plane, but dismissed that idea, at least for now. I didn't actually _need_ a car here; I could take the bus anywhere I couldn't walk to or bike myself, and it would cut down on pollution.

I reached the house in about forty-five minutes, and immediately flung myself on the couch, displacing a now much older and enormously fat Tigger, who took up residence on a nearby chair and glared at me. I contented myself with merely glaring back, too lazy to move from the couch. Instead of moving to get a snack like my stomach demands me to, I flip on the TV and channel surf. There was absolutely nothing on, but that wasn't such a bad thing right now; it wasn't quality entertainment I was in search of, but something easy, something that didn't require me to think about it. I was trying to keep myself from doing too much thinking right now anyway, and I didn't need the added drama of getting into a television show. I finally decided on _Two and a Half Men_ and stared off into space, Charlie Sheen blaring in the background.

I stay that way for the next fifteen minutes until _she_ comes in and sits down, smiling at me like it's still the days of the Baby-Sitters Club and she still has any right to smile at me at all, let alone as though nothing's happened. "Dawn," she begins to say, but I've already gotten up and walked out of the living room towards the kitchen, declining to even look at her. I was vaguely aware of her footsteps behind me, following me, as I pulled out a can of V8 and popped it open, taking a long drink.

"You're going to have to talk to me sometime," she continued, still following me not only to the living room, but up the stairs and nearly into the room before I slammed the door in her face and put a chair under the knob, successfully barring her entrance. "Dawn! Come on, it was two years ago!" Mary Anne exclaimed, trying to force the door open. I rolled my eyes and flopped on my bed, resisting the urge to put my pillow over my face. I instead pulled out a magazine and started reading, trying to ignore the steady chatter from outside my door. It seemed that she had set up camp right there in the hallway.

"It was a mistake and you know it. I didn't mean – Dawn, come _on_! Open the door and talk to me! You're being so immature!" Her voice had risen to a shrill whine now, and I finally gave in.

I put the pillow over my head and close my eyes. I knew that this would be starting up, but I figured she'd at least give me a few weeks to settle in, get re-adjusted to Stoneybrook, and maybe get a few hateful glares in her direction before she started badgering me. It seems that I had underestimated her, and now I was paying for it. I momentarily entertained the idea of yelling at her to just shut up and go away, but I knew any response whatsoever would simply give her more motivation to sit out there until I caved. Even turning on music would admit that I knew she was alive, and that wasn't something I was even capable of doing yet, let alone willing to do.

"How long are you going to keep ignoring me?" she shouted. Of course, I didn't answer, and I think by this point she finally picked up on the hint that no matter what she said, I was going to be silent. That was the whole point of this little exercise here, with her sitting outside my door and my head being under this pillow – the fact that I was _not talking to her_. "Fine! Be like that," she yelled and got up and stormed off, and as she stomped down the stairs, I could hear her sniffling. It seemed she still hadn't learned what events to cry over, and that irritated the hell out of me.

I finally unpacked that night, and the last thing I took out was a picture of Carol and me, her holding Gracie while I stood behind her, arms wrapped around her neck in a hug. It had surprised me just how close Carol and I had become after she and Dad got married, but I found the two of us becoming not only friends, but establishing an almost mother-daughter relationship. It wasn't quite the same as the one between my mother and me, but it was just as nice.

I looked at the picture, and blinked back tears. "I miss you," I whispered before setting it up on the desk next to my bed. I stayed lying on my bed until Richard called me for dinner. It was, of course, a rather tense affair. Mary Anne's face had tear streaks down it, and so Mom was sending rather pointed looks in my direction that I professionally ignored. Not only did I know what Mary Anne's problem was, I didn't give a damn about it. I smirked slightly instead, _you haven't told them, have you?_ I thought, glancing over Mary Anne's head to look at the clock._ You're letting them think that I'm just the cruel sister who hurts their precious, sensitive Mary Anne to do it. And what's worse, you'll never, ever tell them. You'll make me do it if I ever want them to know the truth, and it wasn't even my fault._

I excused myself after about twenty minutes, unable to take Richard and Mom's chatting, trying to cover up the silence emanating from both ends of the table where my step-sister and I sat. I ran back up to my room and continued reading the magazine, barely looking at anything or paying close attention, just grateful for the distraction. An hour passed before I heard Mary Anne go into her room, and I knew it was safe to go back downstairs. I commandeered the computer, logging onto the internet. Unfortunately, it only held my attention for about half an hour, since none of my friends were logged in and there was nothing else I wanted to do online.

Disheartened, I once again retreated to my room. This time, I gave up, and stared at the ceiling until two hours later, I fell asleep, only hoping that tomorrow could get better.

A/N: So, how was _that_ for a great load of nothing? I wrote most of this while under the influences of Benadryl, both before and after virtually passing out for four hours. This is setting some stuff up, and gave more insight into her feelings about Mary Anne.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week passed by uneventfully. My life had settled into a routine, as most lives tend to do, and although there were a few unwanted kinks in the system, the daily schedule worked. I woke up every morning at six-thirty, showered, dressed, did my hair and make-up, and very, very occasionally ate breakfast. Then I'd catch a ride with Richard to school (I had ridden with my mother earlier in the week, and vowed never do to so again unless absolutely necessary after I was almost late, due to Mom forgetting not only her briefcase, but her office key and hard disks with extremely important files on them), and depending on how much time was left before school started, either linger at my locker, hide in the bathroom, or simply head to first period. Then came the school day itself, with a lonely lunch and horribly boring classes. One day at lunch, Mary Anne sat down at my table; I didn't even blink as she prattled on about her day so far. At first I tried to tune her out, but finally was forced to get up and leave while she was still talking, leaving her hanging mid-sentence. I didn't move far – the next table sufficed. After that, I suppose she got the hint, because she attempted no further contact. Needless to say, I was relieved.

It was the weekend that threw me for a loop. I had no idea how to occupy myself for the next forty-eight hours until school started again, and I could hide back in my routine. There was very little entertainment for a person without a group of friends in Stoneybrook – even the movie theatre and roller rink were not as much fun solo. I was desperate to get out of the house for a few hours, not only because frankly it sucked to be home on a weekend, but because my step-sister was beginning to eye me once more, and I was feeling trapped. Floundering for a reason to escape, I remembered my promise to myself to get a job. It probably wasn't something I had to worry about my first week back, but it _was_ something to do. I finally got out of the house around three o'clock, and hopped on my bike. I looked for my helmet for a good twenty minutes before giving up, and merely resolved _not_ to fall off and get a concussion.

It always surprised me that for such a "small town" there was always quite a bit of traffic on the roads. It took awhile to reach downtown Stoneybrook, and even there it was crowded. First, I headed to a smaller restaurant called Goldie's, which was essentially a fast food place, but with healthier choices. It had become a favourite of mine in the years past, and always my first choice when starving as I was now. I ordered a chicken burger with fries (all foods were prepared in pure vegetable oil and had no trans fat, and honestly, I had loosened up quite a bit diet-wise over the last few years), and decided on a medium soda (Sprite), then sat down at a table by the window. I sighed slightly as I watched several groups of teenagers walk by, all laughing and goofing around with their friends. I felt homesick for the first time since arriving in Stoneybrook – on a weekend like this in California, if I wasn't working at a job I actually liked, I'd be with my friends. Although Sunny Winslow and I were no longer the best friends we once were, we were still part of the same large group at Vista High. A girl named Alicia Howell and I had grown closer, and although I felt I had outgrown having a "best friend", she was the closest there was. I missed her now briefly, and I sighed again, now feeling even more lonely and just the slightest bit sorry for myself.

"Dawn?" The voice seemed to come from directly behind me, but I didn't know anyone who actually ate at Goldie's besides a few older kids, now out of school and out of state. "Dawn, is that you?"

I gave in and turned around, my eyes widening slightly. The girl I saw looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. She had shoulder-length dark hair, straight and shiny. Her brown eyes were lightly mascara-ed, and she wore both green eyeliner and eye shadow. Her shirt was also green, a tank-top with white polka-dots, paired with light blue jeans. She was stunning, and for the life of me, I couldn't find a name for her.

Then she sneezed, and it all clicked.

"Abby!" I gasped, and then looked at her again. "Wow. What are you doing here?"

"I always eat here. Goldie makes a mean burger," she answered with a grin. "Plus, the fries taste better without all that salt and greasy crap. I can see you're a fan too," Abby added, motioning to my fries, "when did that happen?"

"Sit down," I invited her, motioning to the seat in front of me, and as she eased into the chair, I kept talking. "Oh, God, it must have been a year ago, maybe a little less. My friends Ducky, Alicia, and I were driving back from a weekend trip to Los Angeles, and they were starving. The only food stop for about two hours was a Sonic, since it was getting late and we didn't want to eat around ten or eleven. Lici insisted that we stop and get something, and Ducky of course loves Sonic, so he put up no fight. He was more disturbed at the fact that I had never had a French fry before," I paused to laugh at Abby's playfully appalled face, and nodded. "Yep, that was his reaction too. Anyway, he forced me to try a few of his fries, and I'll admit - they _were_ fantastic. Then Lici, taking that as a positive sign, shoved a piece of her burger in my mouth. After getting over the initial disgust and shock, I…" I trailed off and grinned at Abby sheepishly.

"You what?" she asked, obviously enjoying the story. "Don't leave me hanging here!"

"I… Well, I went and ordered one for myself. Just a single, plain burger, no condiments or lettuce or anything on it. Just… a burger."

"You _didn't!_" she exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "Save-the-cows Dawn? No frickin' way."

"I did. Got a medium fry too. I even ate it all, even though I _did_ get a little sick later, since my system wasn't used to all the crap going through it."

"Wow. So you're an omnivore like the rest of us now?" Abby asked.

"Kind of. I'll admit it, I love fries. And I'll occasionally eat an actual burger, still plain. I can't stand having anything on it for some reason - even just lettuce or tomato or pickles makes me sick. But mostly, I stick to chicken wraps or strips, because beef still sometimes plays merry hell with my body."

"And the soda?" came another question.

"Just Sprite. I'll get a Coke sometimes if I need caffeine, but I still prefer juice, really." I noticed Abby staring at me, and I blushed slightly, realizing how much I'd been talking. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've changed a lot," she replied, shrugging. "I mean, I know I didn't know you very well, since I _was_ your replacement, but I've always remembered you as Dawn the Crusader, protecting the Earth from mankind with her mane of white-blonde hair. Now you're eating burgers with the rest of us. It's hard to wrap my brain around it."

I laughed uncomfortably, shrugging. "Things change," I responded quietly, feeling strangely defensive. "I mean, you're different from what I remember too. Your hair looks more like Anna's, except straight. And I doubt they let you play soccer in that tank top."

"I can't play soccer anymore," Abby all but whispered, and for a split-second, her face was a mask of utter misery. My stomach dropped as she continued speaking, feeling horrible for bringing this up. "A girl from Rocky Creek High slide-tackled me in a game, and I landed wrong when I fell. I tore some ligaments and screwed up my knee."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," I said, putting my hand on her arm.

"It's… okay. Well, no, it's not, but you didn't know. I've been doing physical therapy for about six months, and even though I'm still having trouble even running without really screwing up my knee further, my therapist says it's getting better. I might have full mobility of it within a year and a half. Too late for soccer scholarships, but… well, I'm more realistic about playing it professionally, I guess. It doesn't really bother me anymore," she added, but we both knew it was a lie. Her eyes had lost all the sparkle to them, and I felt as though I had kicked a puppy.

"I'm really sorry, Abby. That's terrible," I said, feeling helpless to make her feel better. I felt awful, even though I had no way of knowing about the tragedy. I searched my brain for something to talk about, something to change the subject. "So uhm… how's Anna doing?"

This, too, was apparently the wrong thing to say, as another look of pain flashed across her face before she covered it with a smile. "Oh, she's fine. She's uh, she's in New York right now, participating in a group at a world-renowned facility. We're not sure when she's going to be home, but she seems happy, so Mom isn't too worried."

I smiled, happy that Anna had a chance to get out of Stoneybrook and follow what she loved to do. I could only assume that Abby meant that she was doing a music study with a group of musicians, since she was practically a violin prodigy. I couldn't be more thrilled. "That's great! I'm glad that she's happy."

Abby merely smiled and nodded, before standing up. "Anyway, I need to get going. It was great seeing you, Dawn." She paused for a moment, then turned back and smiled again, this time for real. "I have to go to work right now, I coach Small-Soccer at the elementary school, but I'll be off at five. Are you doing anything later tonight?"

I looked up at her, hardly believing my ears, but grinning just as wide. "No, last time I checked my schedule, I had no appointments," I replied, aware of just how lame it sounded, but not caring.

"Sweet. Could you possibly pick up my dry cleaning, then?"

I stared at her open-mouthed for a minute before she began to laugh. I stuck my tongue out at her before joining in on her laughter, unable to fully believe that she had gotten me with such a stupid joke. "Sorry, I have a fifty-dollar charge for any services performed," I replied, knowing that it was equally as bad a response, but thrilled just to be laughing with someone again.

"Seriously though, if you want, you should come over later around seven or so. You could even spend the night if you want, since tomorrow's Sunday," Abby sincerely offered, shrugging.

"That sounds great. I'll definitely see you at seven," I answered, trying not to smile like a complete goober.

"Awesome. Later, Dawn," she called over her shoulder before sprinting out the door. I myself picked up the remains of my lunch and threw it in the trash, before going back out to my bike. Maybe the job search was off for today, since it was nearing four o'clock, but I figured that next weekend I could actually begin to look. Perhaps Abby would know of a place that was hiring and wasn't exceptionally horrible to work at. I knew I could never work at a fast food place, even if it _was_ Goldie's. I was hoping for perhaps a book store, or maybe the video rental store. Somewhere that wouldn't be humiliating to be seen at. Perhaps I was a snob in that department, but the only job I'd ever held previously was one I had absolutely adored, and I couldn't imagine myself dressed in red, at a drive-through window, proclaiming, "Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" I didn't need a job _that_ badly.

I arrived back at the house around five-thirty; it would have taken less time, except I hadn't pedaled very fast; I didn't especially want to get home in a hurry, since Abby wouldn't be home until seven. Even an hour and a half with the tense atmosphere that was at the house seemed unbearable. Even so, I walked in trying to have a positive attitude; perhaps this wouldn't be a night that Mary Anne and Richard were fighting, or that Richard and Sharon shared annoyed, knowing looks across the table. I was sick of the bad vibes, and it was only the end of the first week. I wondered if it was like this when I was gone.

"So Dawn, what are you doing tonight?" Richard asked in a pleasant tone while everyone was gathered in the living room for one reason or another.

"Oh, I'm going over to Abby's tonight," I responded casually, then straightened up at Mary Anne's gasp.

"What?" Sharon asked in response to the sound, knowing that I wouldn't. She and Richard thought that they knew why I refused to speak to her, but of course they didn't. Still, at least they were decent enough not to try to force me to make amends with her, mainly because I'm sure they knew it wouldn't work.

"Abby Stevenson? She hasn't talked to anyone in six months," Mary Anne said quietly, "ever since Anna left. She just sort of shut down. She wouldn't even talk to me when I tried to help her. Why in the world would she talk to _you?_"

I bristled, and knew even then that this was it. I was going to break the vow of silence, but then, this would be as good a time as ever. I was sick of her sneaky comments, knowing that I would have to let them slide. It was time for her to be taken down a notch. "Gosh, Mary Anne, I'm just ever-so-sure I don't know," I replied sweetly, ignoring the looks of shock from my mother and step-father, "perhaps it's because if she was going to choose to speak to someone, she'd rather it not be a back-stabbing, two-faced little bitch. Ever think of that?" With that, I merely smiled at her as though I'd just complimented her outfit, and walked off, unwilling to wait for the admonishments that were sure to come. In the background, I heard Mary Anne start to sniffle, and I smirked. I had long realized that her crybaby attitude was merely an act, a way to get sympathy when she didn't want to answer questions that would make her life harder.

I disregarded her comment about Abby, since it was just the sort of thing that she would make up. After all, I was a bit of a loner, but people didn't go for six months without any sort of human contact at all. Humans were by nature social creatures and craved the company of others, especially Abby. Even if it was true, it was none of my business. After all, I was just as desperate for a friend.

Seven o'clock came and I borrowed Richard's car, so I wouldn't have to bike over there in the dark. Abby answered the door and let me in, explained that her mother was still at work and probably visiting Anna in New York, and left it at that. We went up to her bedroom and just sat around, talking for a few hours about people we both used to know, who was dating whom, who had dropped out of school, etc. It wasn't until about nine-thirty that she asked the question that everyone in Stoneybrook who knew us wanted the answer to.

"So Dawn… why aren't you and Mary Anne talking? I mean, we all know you had a sort of fight, or something like that, but usually you two make up really quickly. What's the deal?"

I stared at her in shock for a moment. I knew that there was a lot of gossip about what caused the rift between us, and it had escalated because not even our closest friends knew the cause, but Abby had actually been the first one to come out and ask what had happened. I didn't know how to react to the question. For some reason, I'd never been able to tell Mom and Richard what really happened, even though it would have served her right. I had gotten so used to being mad about it that I had never gotten around to clearing my name.

"She… well, she told a lie about me. And it got me into huge trouble," I responded, unwilling to really go into details unless further pressed. After all, Abby and I had been friends, but we weren't exactly the close friends that Alicia and I had been – not even Alicia knew.

"That's it?" Abby asked, as though it was no big deal. "I'm guessing that there has to be something more, since if it was just a little stupid lie, it wouldn't have gone this far. But I'm also guessing you don't want to talk about it, since you merely evaded the question with a vague generality."

I stared at Abby for a moment again, before laughing. "Damn girl, when did you learn how to psychoanalyze people?" Abby flinched slightly, as though my words had struck her, and Mary Anne's words came back to me. "Abby… earlier, I heard that you hadn't been talking to anyone lately. Like, six months lately. Is that true?"

Now it was Abby's turn to be silent, before she merely contented herself with nodding. She took a deep breath, and said, "Yeah, yeah, it's true. You're pretty much the first person I talked to in about half a year. I mean, like outside answering questions in class, and stuff like that."

I was thunder-struck. "_Why_?" I exclaimed. "What happened to cheerful, outgoing, boisterous Abby? It can't just be because of the soccer accident."

She gave me a wry look, and answered simply, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

I hesitated now, wondering what could be so awful, and feeling slightly ashamed. It was obviously a big deal to Abby, nothing compared to my fight with Mary Anne, but I was terribly curious by now. "Deal."

A/N: Sorry to leave you hanging… I promise you'll get at least _one_ secret revealed in the next chapter. Also, I hate to say it, but _please_ review. It's always nice to know how I'm doing.


	4. Chapter 4

We stared at each other for a moment, both unwilling to divulge our own secret first, but both dying to know the other. Seconds turned into minutes, and the silence became painful. "Maybe we should just go to sleep," I finally suggested, albeit half-heartedly.

"Yeah," Abby agreed just as reluctantly, though with the same small tinge of relief reflected in my own voice, "you can go take a shower if you want."

I nodded silently and grabbed my pajamas before heading to the bathroom. As I walked into the hall, I heard Abby sigh, then sniff. My heart froze, but I kept walking; I always hated to watch people cry, especially if there was nothing I could do to comfort them. As it was, as I stepped into the steaming hot shower, I had to fight back tears of my own. I had come so close to revealing the very thing I had worked so hard to conceal, the thing that I had carried inside me for two years, and for some reason, I felt disappointed that the opportunity to share it had passed. A secret that wasn't really a secret anymore, but a defense system against darker ones, a secret that maybe _shouldn't_ be one anymore. But if I kept that one close to me, I never would have to think of the other one, the one that burned inside me and threatened to linger in the back of my mind until I died. A silly, held grudge to save me from being haunted.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off, wiping my face clean of where a few tears had slipped out. Clear of the torrent of weeping that had followed. I got dressed quickly and blow-dried my hair straight before heading back to Abby's room. She was stretched out on her bed, facing the door and pretending to be asleep. Her tear-streaked face closely resembled mine – the tracks hadn't yet faded. I unrolled my sleeping back on the floor and crawled into it. Although it was almost ten, around when I usually went to sleep considering how early I wake up, I wasn't tired at all. My brain wouldn't shut off no matter how hard I tried to clear it. Abby apparently was having just as little luck sleeping, judging from her restless tossing up on her bed. After a minute I heard her get up and say, "I'm going to get something to drink; do you want anything?"

"Just some water, please," I replied quietly, re-adjusting my pillow.

After she left, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. I wasn't sure why keeping Abby from knowing my secret made everything seem heavier. Maybe it was the prospect of finally getting it out, telling someone, and then losing the chance. One less secret living inside of me seemed so relieving, and I thought I might cry again.

Abby came back with two glasses of water, and I gratefully gulped mine down. As she climbed back into her bed, I made my decision before I could chicken out. "Mary Anne isn't a virgin, you know." As soon as I was done speaking, I could feel Abby stare at me, her eyes intense even in the dark. I almost laughed.

"Well, I'm glad that wasn't random or anything," she commented dryly, "please tell me you're going somewhere with that, although I assume it has to do with what we talked about earlier?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Well then, by all means, carry on."

I hesitated only slightly, "Abby, please promise me you won't talk about this to _any_one, okay? This all happened two years ago, and… well –"

"Don't worry, Dawn. You're safe with me."

The way she phrased her promise made me smile. I took a deep breath and continued, "Mary Anne had sex with Logan when she was fourteen, and I was shocked as hell when she told me. I didn't find out until two weeks later, when she was crying hysterically because her period was three days late and she was scared senseless. She told me it had just happened – one minute, she and Logan were just making out heavily, the next – well, you get the picture. They didn't even use a condom. Mary Anne was convinced that she was pregnant and that her father would kill her.

"She refused to go to a clinic and was too scared to buy a test. So after school one day, I bought one for her – it was really embarrassing too, since Emily Bernstein's father works at the pharmacy. I couldn't look her in the eye for a month. Anyway, Mary Anne took the test, and it came out negative, thank God. She was so relieved – we both were. She was so happy that she threw the test away in the bathroom trash instead of the outside can."

"Oh, no," Abby breathed, wincing.

"Richard came unglued when he found it. He didn't care that it was negative – he cared that one of his fourteen and fifteen year old girls had to buy a pregnancy test. We heard threats ranging from Catholic school, to house arrest, to an actual convent. It would have been kind of funny if he hadn't been so pissed off. Then he got around to asking whose test it was."

"Shit. Poor Mary Anne," Abby commented.

"She told him it was mine," I responded quietly.

"_What!?_" she yelled, sitting straight up and staring at me, "and he _believed_ her?"

"She wasn't dating Logan by that point, remember? They'd been broken up for a long time. They were just fooling around – not many people knew that, and our parents certainly didn't," I reminded her. "And I… I…"

"Was with Howie Johnson," she finished in a hushed voice. "Oh, God Dawn, what happened? What'd Richard do? Is that why you went back to California?"

"Not exactly. When she told Richard that, I was too shocked to say anything. I couldn't believe she'd do that, especially since I had helped her, I'd held her as she cried; I'd been there for her when she was too afraid to look at the test herself. I couldn't speak, not even to deny it. When my mouth finally worked again, it was too late to say anything in my defense, and Mary Anne certainly wasn't going to tell the truth, not when she'd gotten away with it.

Richard had my mother take me to a clinic to get birth control. He didn't make me break up with Howie, which amazed me. I suppose his reasoning was that if I could 'sneak around' like that already, I'd certainly keep it up, and it wouldn't do any good to forbid me from seeing him. I don't know - I don't pretend to understand Richard. Anyway, I didn't really want the pills, but both of them made it clear that I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. My mom even watched me take the pill every day. That wasn't so bad though. What was bad was when Howie found out.

"He was pleasantly surprised when he saw the pills," I explained, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I talked. "He thought it was awesome – went so far as to take it as an open invitation. He came over one night when Mom and Richard went to Mercer to see a play, some musical, I think. I remember that Mom was wearing a cream coloured sweater, and Richard was wearing a dark green one. They looked really cute together. Sorry, I know that's weird, but I guess I just remember so much about that night so vividly," I added, seeing her confused face. "Anyway, Mary Anne was sitting at the Hills' house, so she wasn't there. I didn't even know he was going to come over, he just showed up, and no one knew he was there. I didn't want him to stay, since he'd been getting a bit more aggressive lately, but I didn't want to have a fight, so I backed down. For awhile, all we did was sit around in the den and watch T.V. Then he said that he wanted to go upstairs and use the computer that I had in my room, and so we headed there. When the door closed, he pushed me on the bed and put his hand up my skirt, and h-held me down…" I struggled with the words for a moment, my throat closing up. I took a deep breath, willing myself not to cry.

"Oh Dawn…" Abby whispered, coming down on the floor with me and putting her arm around me. I flinched a little at the contact, but didn't pull away, a little grateful for the support.

"Anyway, yeah. I mean, it wasn't… he… it didn't get very far. I mean, he… managed to, but only a few times before I got him off me, and then Mary Anne came home, so that pretty much ended it. He left before she could even get up the stairs, but I know that they exchanged a few words, because I could hear him laugh before the door slammed. After that… the next day, I called my father and begged him to let me come home."

Abby was silent for a few minutes while I composed myself. I began to wish she'd say something, _anything_, because the silence was becoming unbearable, crushing. I was having trouble breathing from my constricted throat, which was usually what happened in place of crying.

"Didn't you tell your parents?" she asked after awhile. I merely shook my head. "Why?"

"I didn't think they'd believe me. That they'd think I was trying to cover for the pregnancy test or something. It was just easier to leave. I mean, Mary Anne saw Howie, and made a comment to me later about how he had s-sex hair. When I started to cry, she just hugged me, and then t-told me that the next time would be better."

"That _bitch_," Abby growled. "I think I'm going to have to kill her."

"Oh God, don't," I begged her, "I can't take that. It's as okay now as it will ever be, and I've dealt with it." This was why I had carried it inside of me for so long, why I didn't want to talk about it – I'd handled it my own way eventually, and I hated having to think about it.

"God, Dawn, that's awful," she continued. "I think I would have gone crazy."

"I almost did. I thought it was my fault for taking the pills in the first place. I got really angry out in California, and started doing some stupid shit. Started partying. I mean I didn't get drunk or do drugs or anything, but I ran in a crowd that did, and it was only really a matter of time. Luckily, C-Carol noticed how badly things were going on early on, and got me some help. She took me to a therapist, and it really, really helped – I wasn't depressed or self-destructive anymore. Dad still doesn't know what happened, and neither does – did – Carol, but she never pressed me to tell her; she just did what she could to get me better. She probably saved my life," I finished, crying now not for myself, but for Carol – Carol, who had always been there for me, who had done everything for me, and whom I had failed miserably. Guilt gnawed at my stomach.

Abby handed me a box of tissues and let me cry. It was the first time I had really let loose since that night two years ago. Even at Carol's funeral, I had barely cried, and this storm of weeping made the tears shed in the shower seem like children's laughter.

I couldn't stop. This was real sobbing. I was curled up in my sleeping bag, gushing tears. I couldn't remember what had set me off anymore, but it felt _good_ to cry like this. I knew it was time to stop, however, when my stomach began to rebel. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, a highly unpleasant experience with tears still running down my face. When I could finally straighten up, exhausted from what had just happened, Abby was beside me with a warm, damp wash cloth that she pressed to my face. I took a deep breath, the warmth soothing my nerves. I could feel a headache coming on, but the cloth kept that at bay. I felt relieved, so much lighter than I had in years. I didn't realize how hard it was keeping that awful night bottled inside me.

"Thank you," I whispered when I could finally talk, my throat raw and sore.

"It's okay, Dawn. I've been here before. I probably will be here later tonight," she replied dryly, her eyes sad. "At least we'll be able to deal with it." There was a pause, and then she spoke again, "Listen, do you want to go hit a drive-through somewhere? I have a feeling it's going to be a long night, and we're going to need some comfort food."

It's always made me sad that there is no Sonic in Stoneybrook, because McDonald's will never be able to compare – besides, there is a distinct lack of onion rings. Still, Abby and I made do with enough food to feed a small army. We both knew there'd be little sleep for us in the next twelve hours, and we made sure we were prepared. When we returned to the house, we were laden down with six plain hamburgers, three Big Macs, four quarter pounders with cheese, seven 10-Piece chicken nuggets, seven large fries, and three liters of Dr. Pepper (Abby's choice, courtesy of the Mini-Mart) to last us for roughly fourteen hours. We realized that we had gone extremely over-board and that we had just blown an obscene amount of money on fast food, but we didn't care. We merely joked that we could hear our arteries already screaming for the sweet release of death, and laughed at our own silliness. Still, underneath the joking and laughing, there was the dull ache of the knowledge that this would be a heart-breaking night, dealing with inner demons that we had never faced before, and that we would need all the familiarity, and what small happiness, we could get before we started. We'd rather have too much than too little.

We stalled for a bit longer, avoiding the subject of what I had just told Abby, or of what she was about to tell me. We watched bad late night television and giggled over The Facts Of Life. Her mother still hadn't come home, and she nodded, telling me that she was most likely sleeping on a cot in her office; she worked overnight sometimes when a large project was due. Abby was used to it, but I felt sorry for her – it would be awful to know that your own mother would rather be in a whole other city working all night than being home with her daughter. I didn't mention this, though. Some things you just don't ask about, because there's a line. I didn't need to know how Abby felt about her mother, just be there in case she wanted to talk.

Finally, finally, we ran out of things to do, out of ways to avoid it. We'd even tried playing Monopoly, which failed miserably, because two-player Monopoly is even lamer than the usual game. For one, Abby grinned while putting it away, it made it harder to cheat, which we both tried to do anyway. We moved her blankets and pillows and my sleeping back out into the living room, put on more Nick at Nite television on as background sound, and became serious again. We still had plenty of food left, and as we munched on fries, Abby spoke again, her eyes bright.

"This is also top-secret, okay Dawnie?" she asked, purposefully using the nickname she knew I hated, as the first time she had used it that night, I had threatened her with bodily harm. "I mean, it's not just my secret, it's hers as well, and I don't know if she or my mother would appreciate anyone else knowing."

"Of course," I readily responded, knowing already that I would rather die than betray anything she would tell me. It simply wasn't done, especially after what I had told her. "What happens at the sleepover stays at the sleepover."

Abby merely nodded, and took a deep breath. "I lied to you earlier. Well, not really a lie. Just omitting the truth, which I guess is the same thing. Let me re-phrase," she continued, and I knew that she was so worried about the way it sounded because she was nervous about what she was about to say, and didn't want to have to spit it out until absolutely necessary. I waited patiently, knowing just how hard it was. "I didn't tell you the whole truth earlier. And I'm sorry, but… it's difficult."

"It's all right, Abby. Take your time. You don't have to tell me at all," I responded, although I hate to admit, I was dying with curiosity.

"No, I'll tell you. You had enough balls to tell me your demon, so here is mine." She took another deep breath, and tears already had run down her cheeks. I pushed the box of Kleenex towards her, and she took a few, wiping the water away. "Anna isn't in a facility in New York. Well, she is, but it isn't what you think. It isn't a music program or anything like that. She isn't improving her musical skills, or studying anything. It's…something else."

"Okay," I replied, my voice encouraging her to go on. She smiled wanly and took a couple French fries and a drink of soda before she continued.

"Anna's in a mental facility in New York. Six months ago, she had a mental breakdown and tried to kill herself. And it's all my fault."


	5. Chapter 5

I awoke the next morning disoriented and slightly panicked; where was I? My head was foggy, and my stomach heavy; not the best feeling to wake up to. After a few moments of confusion, my brain began to function and I realized I was at the Stevenson household; of course I was - I had spent the night at Abby's. A quick glance at the clock told me it was nearly 11:00, and as soon as I saw the hour, I remembered everything – staying up until the early hours of the morning talking, telling her my secret, my shame… hearing her confession. Abby had burst into tears promptly after uttering that cryptic sentence, and I had not pressed her for details even though I was dying to hear more. She had spoken only in short, broken gasps intermingled with heartbroken sobs, and I couldn't bring myself to ask for any more information, at least not at the moment. Although we both went to bed shortly after, I know that I, at least, had not drifted off into sleep until about four am, the possibilities of what had been revealed slowly swirling in my mind.

What _could_ Abby possibly mean by that? "Anna's in a mental facility in New York. Six months ago, she had a mental breakdown and tried to kill herself. And it's all my fault." Well, it seemed pretty straightforward, but still the questions probed at my mind. There had to be more to the story – people simply didn't try to kill themselves for no real reason, and although it was natural for others to blame the attempt (or success, as I had tragically learned) on themselves, it was rarely the case. But what, what, _what_ could cause Abby to believe she was at fault?

Suddenly, I didn't want to be in this house. I wanted to be in my nice, quiet room, ignoring the attempts of my pathetic step-sister to beg my forgiveness. I wanted to forget this ever happened, to block last night from my memory forever. I silently dressed, determined not to wake Abby, unable to deal with the thought of her asking me to stay just a little longer, to hang out during the day, or any sort of request. In order for things to go back to normal, I had to get as far away from this house as I could, at least for awhile. I couldn't deal with Abby's tears or pain – my own was still so fresh.

After scribbling a hasty note explaining that I had to be home before noon, with a quick apology, I was out the door and running home, the call of my own, safe bed too tempting to overcome. Thundering up the stairs and throwing open the door of my room, I stopped short, anger giving the swift signal to my adrenaline, which coursed through my veins. "What are you _doing_ in here?" I all but cried out, hands clenched into fists. The last person I would ever want to see was sitting on my bed, a smirk firmly intact on his handsome, dangerous face.

"I invited him," replied the deceivingly mild, sweet voice of my step-sister behind me. "I don't know what issues you and Howie have, but you need to work them out. You two were so good together!"

There are so many analogies and descriptions that come with the feeling of intense anger: seeing red, a blind rage, steam coming out of the ears, boiling point, etc. While I'm sure that many people have experienced at least one of these "symptoms", I can honestly say that in that moment, I surpassed them all. All I felt inside was a dead calm along with the unnerving certainty that in that moment, I could cheerfully kill both Howie Johnson and Mary Anne Spier, and never experience a moment's hesitation or regret.



After that moment's freezing serenity, I completely lost control.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" I screamed, eyes bulging. "Get _out!_" When Howie failed to comply with my somewhat hysterical 'request', and instead only smiled in amusement as though he found my anger funny, I reared back and punched him as hard as I could. There was no aim, no real intended destination, only the manic thought running through my brain: hurt him before he can hurt you. The instant after my fist made contact (it had ended up hitting his nose and part of his eye with a satisfying, and at the same time sickening, _crack_), he was on his feet, advancing towards me, a frightening malice glittering in his eye.

"Stay _away_!" I shrieked, only mildly aware of how utterly insane I must have appeared to Mary Anne in this instance. "Get out, get out, get out, get out, get _out!_" As his approach continued, I picked up the nearest object I could find, in this case, a lamp, and as I prepared to hurl it at his face (which had gratifyingly lost that amused, patronizing smirk) Mary Anne's surprisingly strong grip came around my wrist, containing me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted, shocked anger and a bit of restrained fear in her voice. "Have you completely lost it?" By this time, I had calmed down just the slightest, though I had not lost the fierce look in my eyes, nor would I put the lamp down. I was prepared to kill, and everyone in the room knew it. "Howie, you better go," Mary Anne continued. "I'm _so_ sorry. I had no idea she'd be like this."

At this statement, the adrenaline began flowing again, and I struggled to get out of Mary Anne's grip, now itching to bash the ceramic lamp in her smug, superior face. I'd end that falsely sweet voice of hers forever. I didn't get the chance, however – as soon as Howie was out the front door, there was pain stinging my face and I was brought sharply, and very unwillingly, back into reality as Mary Anne's open palm made contact with my cheek in a resounding _smack_. I looked at her in shock, unable to move for a moment, tears unconsciously streaming down my face.

"You _bitch_," I finally managed in a whisper. "You completely evil _bitch._ Ruining my life once wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to do it again. Is it _fun_ for you, Mary Anne? Is it some fun _game_?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" she yelled, voice rising on every word. "I never did _any_thing to you. I was trying to help! You seemed so happy with Howie, I thought… I thought it might…" her speech trailed off as colour rose to my pale face at her rather poor explanation, anger visible in my eyes.

"Helping? You thought this was _helping?_ Howie _raped me,_ you stupid girl!" After this last shriek of mine, the house fell utterly silent. You could hear the creaks of the branches outside as the wind danced through the trees, the tips scraping the windows.

"He _what?_" was the response that finally came from the girl in front of me, a stunned whisper to match the wide-eyes of disbelief and the face devoid of any colour. Her face was so comical, so perfectly cliché, that I could not help but begin to laugh – the slightly crazed, hysterical laugh of a girl who has kept a secret so long that because it was now no longer a secret, she doesn't quite 

know what to do next, or even who she is anymore. The laughter went on and on; the air was filled with this frightening sound for at least five minutes before once again, Mary Anne's palm made contact with my cheek. The sound died immediately as tears filled my eyes, now fixed in a wounded glare at my step-sister. "Sorry," she whispered, unable to raise her voice above that soft emission. "I'm sorry. So sorry. For… oh God, Dawn, I feel like this is my fault."

"Well, that makes two of us," I snapped, finally able to speak again. "If you hadn't lied to Richard, if you had, for _once_, had the nerve to stand up to your father and be a decent human being, it never would have happened. I'm _glad_ you feel like it's entirely your fault Mary Anne, because it absolutely is!"

"That's not fair," she protested. "I didn't tell Howie to do that – it's not your fault, Dawn, but you can't possibly blame it on me! I would never, _ever_ do anything to hurt you – I didn't know Dawn, and I'm _sorry_."

"You're _sorry?_" I laughed, though controlling the bubbling hysterics rising within me. "I'm so glad you're _sorry_, Mary Anne. Sorry makes everything better! Hell, sorry erases the whole damn thing!" I was aware that my voice was high-pitched and almost squeaky, but I couldn't get it to lower. "I can rest easily at night now that I know Mary Anne is _sorry_. Save it. I don't need your pity, and I _sure_ as hell don't need your apology. Now: get out of my room!"

I knew even as Mary Anne finally left, head hanging and tears streaming down her cheeks, that I was being totally, wholly, and completely unreasonable. I also knew I didn't care. I had needed someone to blame in the days after the attack, and the blame had shifted so easily onto my step-sister. It was too hard to blame Howie (mainly because it was too painful to even think about him), and I couldn't, wouldn't, blame myself. Petulant, to be sure, but she was so easy a target, and even now I refused to acknowledge that maybe, just _maybe_, it wasn't her fault. The hatred and spite had become routine and I could not bring myself to step outside the comforting familiarity of that rage. It was selfish and wrong, but Mary Anne would have to suffer so that I could wake up every morning with some shred of sanity retained.

Perhaps one day it would be different.

But it would not be today.


	6. Chapter 6

School on Monday came as an immense relief. Nothing much had physically changed between Mary Anne and me other than the fact that the silent treatment had grown mutual; she would not meet my eye, and I refused to meet hers. Every once in awhile I would catch her shooting me a wounded glance that I returned with a fierce glare before one of us would direct our gaze to something else. Richard and Mom could tell that something was different by the way Mary Anne would slink out of the room like a whipped dog the instant I entered, and both began to chastise me for how horribly I was treating my sister. For the first time in years, I was actually sent to my room when I responded with the defiant fact that Mary Anne was "not my real sister, only my _step-_sister". I knew that Mom and Richard were disappointed in me, but as much as it hurt, I couldn't forgive her. I just couldn't.

I saw Abby waiting for me by my locker, a look of hope mixed with sheepishness on her face as I approached her. For a brief moment, I considered walking right past her – waving to invisible friends down the hall and hurrying to meet them. I couldn't bring myself to do that though – it was pathetic, and furthermore, I _liked_ Abby. I didn't want the awkwardness of shared secrets to come between us, as hard as it would be to move past at first.

"Hey," she said as I began to turn my combination. "I think we need to talk." For a second, I ignored her, fighting with my locker; it was almost always stuck, and proved a great annoyance to me. Muttering under my breath, I slammed hard on the metal, the BANG resounding down the hallway over the din of students squeezing in a few minutes' conversation before having to go to homeroom. "Dawn? _Dawn?_ Are you listening to me?"

"Y'know, I'm having people call me Read now," I remarked casually as though the only important part of her dialogue had been the subject of my name.

"Yeah, and that's stupid," she answered back just as easily, seemingly unruffled by my blatant disregard of her request. "Changing your name doesn't change who you are. Trust me, I know."

Something about the way Abby said that made me uneasy; perhaps it was the gleam in her eye, the look of terrible pain that flickered in the brown depths before she blinked it away. "How would you know?" I asked, wincing at the slight challenge in my voice that had been unintentional, at least consciously.

A startled laugh ripped its way from Abby's throat as she nervously swept her gaze from side to side. "A few weeks after the thing happened with Anna, I tried changing my nickname from Abby to Gail. Figured it would give me a new start, I guess. I kept it up for about a month until I realized that absolutely nothing had changed. Being Gail didn't make things any easier. It doesn't change anything."

"I'm not trying to _change _anything," I protested indignantly. "It isn't anything like that! It's… it's just…" my voice faltered as my irritation died out, replaced by the heart-numbing sadness. "It's what Carol called me, okay? My step-mother," I added, seeing Abby's look of confusion. 

"She… she died. And I miss her, a lot. She said she always thought that it must be hard living up to everyone's expectations of who Dawn Schafer was, and she wanted to sort of give me a break from it. It's not funny!" I exclaimed as Abby's face contorted into an amused grin. "I know it doesn't make much sense, and maybe you wouldn't understand anyway, but with her, I wasn't Dawn Schafer, environmental crusader, baby-sitter, the girl who saved Clover and Daffodil from that fire or anything like that. I was just Read, her step-daughter with whom the 'step' didn't count – just Read, whom she loved." I realized in horror that tears were streaming down my cheeks and that my voice was raised far beyond what I had intended it to be – I was nearly shouting.

"Dawn, calm down," Abby said soothingly. "I'm not… I didn't know you'd get so upset. What's wrong?"

"She killed herself," I whispered, trying to stop the little trails of liquid from running down my face to no avail. "My dad… he cheated on her right after she had a miscarriage, and she couldn't handle it. The girl looked just like my mother and it… it just sort of broke her."

"Oh God. I'm so, so sorry," she answered, her voice now hushed. "I didn't know Dawn, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's my fault; I made such a big deal out of my name. I just… it's like a tribute to her, you know? A way to keep her alive," I noticed that I had a tremor running through my words now, and as I dazedly glanced around, it came to my attention that we were the only ones left in the hall. Homeroom had begun at least five minutes ago, and in another five, it would be time to go to first period. It wasn't happening; twelfth grade calculus, which was normally fairly easy for me, or at least not too terribly difficult, would prove my undoing should I force myself to go. "I think I'm just going to head back home," I informed Abby.

"Mind if I join you? I don't think school is in the schedule for me, either," she replied, a hopeful look on her face. Inwardly, I groaned. I had been looking forward to taking a long bath and then sleeping for the rest of the day until I had to get up to erase the message from the office informing my mother what a terrible ditcher-child I was. Still, the look on Abby's face struck a chord deep within me; she didn't want to be alone, and I knew that feeling. However, when I was at my worst and loneliest, there was no one there for me to turn to. I didn't want to cut her off as I had been; I couldn't refuse her.

"Sure, you can come over. We can watch cheesy Disney movies and eat way too much ice cream… or, at least, you can eat too much ice cream, and I can lecture you on how it's rotting your teeth," I joked, remembering the days of my early teen years where any source of sugar that my friends consumed was fair game for a "you won't have all your teeth by the time you're thirty" seminar. How they put up with me during that time, I'll never know.

"Sounds good; if you fall asleep, I'll force the sugary goodness down your throat and hide all the toothpaste and toothbrushes in the house," Abby shot back, grinning.

It was about a half hour walk back up to Burnt Hill Road; in reality, the walk was not too terribly long, but the two of us took our time. When we finally arrived at the house, we immediately flopped on the couch after popping in _Mulan_, one of my favourite Disney movies of all time. Not much attention was paid to the movie though, as Abby decided it was time to bring up painful subjects once again:

"I didn't know that your step-mother killed herself."

Wincing at the lack of tact, I merely answered with a short, "Yes. She did."

"I'm sorry, it's just… well, I never actually met anyone who had a family member succeed. I can't imagine how terrible it was for you. At least Anna survived," she hastily added, as though that little amendment completely made up for the tasteless comment.

"Why did Anna try to kill herself?" I blurted out before I could stop myself, morbid curiosity getting the better of me. Then again, Abby was prying into my painful past; perhaps it was only fair that I be allowed to do the same.

Taking a deep breath, Abby answered, "It really was my fault, Dawn. There was this guy she liked who we ran into when we went back to Long Island to visit my grandma. She asked him out and he turned her down; I didn't know, because about an hour later he asked me out, and because I liked him too, I said yes. When I found out he turned her down, I felt awful, but I decided to still go on the date with him. When we got back to the house, I asked him why he turned her down – I mean, I was curious, I wanted to know. He just started saying the most awful things about her; she was boring, she was a music geek, she had no sense of humour, she dressed like a five year old, that sort of thing.

"Well, I guess she heard him, because when I got back to the room we had to share at our grandma, her clothes were ripped up, she had smashed one of her violins, her books were all torn… it was awful, Dawn. She said she didn't blame me, but that she just liked him so much, she couldn't handle the thought of him just really thinking badly of her like that. The next day we both decided to go get haircuts and makeovers; her to see if she could make herself feel better, maybe 'modern up' her look a little, and I went with her because she wanted the company. We ended up with pretty much the same haircut; it was cut a little below the ears, although I usually left mine curly and she straightened hers a lot."

She paused here, running a finger through her hair, which I noted, was now straight. _Interesting,_ I thought, but waited for her to continue.

"The next day the guy, Ryan, asked Anna out, thinking she was me. Anna said yes, _knowing _that he had made a mistake, but not caring. They went out on the date, but he soon figured out the reason why happy, peppy, sporty Abby was being so quiet and mild. He called me that evening telling me what a loser I was to stick him with my 'idiotic, retarded, boring as hell' sister and that if I ever came near him again, he'd make me sorry. I couldn't understand the turnaround, or what he meant by insulting Anna. When I confronted her, she told me the whole story, and I was furious. I said some things I didn't mean about her only having a life when she was pretending to be me, and screwing it up anyway. I said a lot of horrible, terrible things, Dawn." Another pause, then, "She cut her wrists and took sleeping pills that night. If Mom and Grandma hadn't found her…" her voice trailed off.

"Abby," I said firmly, "it wasn't your fault. Anna made her choice when she tried to steal your boyfriend. I'm not saying that what you or Ryan did was right, and you should have been nicer to your sister and picked her over a boy, but you didn't put those pills in her mouth or the razor to her wrist. You can't blame yourself."

"I know," she all but whispered. "I went to therapy for it for awhile, and it really helped. Just, sometimes, it feels like if I had been a better sister, she'd still be here, playing the violin and happy with her life."

"Abby…" I shook my head, changing the subject. "So, I see that your hair's straight now," I lamely said, knowing what a poor switch of topic it was.

Abby's eyes flew open for a moment, her face going white. Then she laughed nervously, running her fingers through her hair again. "Oh, yeah," she said, voice shaky. "Yeah, after Anna… well, it's like with you and Carol. It's a sort of tribute to her. Since she can't be here to be noticed, I figure I can carry on a part of her until she's back."

I nodded, then turned back to the movie, not wanting to think on such dark subjects for awhile. After all, we had left school to get away from the haunting pain that came with our pasts; why let it follow us here now? Our attention was fully given to the story of the young Chinese girl determined to redeem her family's honour and save her father, and it proved a wonderful, if only temporary, distraction.


	7. Chapter 7

As horrible as it sounded, after knowing the horrible truth about Anna, I felt closer to Abby than ever. Knowing that someone else was aware of the pain and crushing guilt that came with a suicide attempt (or success) gave me a morbid comfort that I hadn't felt in months. Although I was sincere in my statement that Anna's attempt was in no way Abby's fault, I knew she didn't believe me – just as I couldn't quite believe that Carol's success left me blameless. All of a sudden, I wanted to really _know_ Abby. She seemed safe; after all, we were never that close, since she was my replacement in the BSC after I left for California. She knew the least about me – she was the least likely to judge. The new, tenuous friendship that was growing between us all at once didn't seem enough; I needed Abby to be my best friend.

As soon as this revelation hit me, Abby grew distant. I called her the next weekend to see if she wanted to hang out at the mall, and her excuse seemed very… flimsy. "Well, why can't you?" I demanded again, a bit harsher than I intended.

"I told you," she replied, sounding irritable. "I have to clean the kitchen while my mom's gone."

"Your mom's always gone," I all but whined, "what makes this weekend so special? Come on; go to the mall with me." I could hear how annoying my voice was becoming, but I couldn't help it. This was the first time I had felt so connected to someone after Howie, after I lost my sister and best friend, and I couldn't get it through my head that maybe she would want to spend a weekend alone after revealing her soul-shattering, guilty secret. Suddenly, my ears perked up as a background noise from Abby's end caught my attention. "Hey, is that a violin?"

"Dawn, I don't want to go to the mall, okay! Just deal with it and mind your own business," she responded, flat out telling me what I didn't want to hear.

"Fine," I snapped, wincing at how shrill and immature my voice sounded, "don't come crying to me when you're all alone this weekend with nothing to do!" I slammed down the phone and threw a shoe at the wall, not quite sure why I felt like this rejection was the end of the world.

"Uhm… I need to go to the mall," a tentative voice from my doorway said. I turned my head to see Mary Anne, and immediately shot a death glare her way. She had been trying to talk to me this entire week, and no amount of cruel responses (when a response was given at all) could deter her. "If you want, we could uhm… maybe go together?" What should have been a statement came out as an almost frightened question, as though she expected me to scream and throw more things at her, which in all honesty, was a valid fear.

However, something in me stayed my hand, and my mean responses died in my throat. I was tired, I realized, and not just physically. It was exhausting to hate Mary Anne, especially since I was running out of justifications to do so. I knew in my heart that what happened to me wasn't her fault, and convincing myself otherwise took too much energy these days; energy I didn't have.

"Okay."

Such a simple word, and yet it took so much out of me that I sagged with weariness. I almost laughed aloud at Mary Anne's shocked look; it was exactly the array of emotions I felt: shock, confusion, disbelief, and even the tiniest bit of hope.

"Seriously?" she whispered, and then cleared her throat. "I mean, that's great! When do you want to go?" She spoke her words rapidly, as though terrified that if she gave me a second to reconsider, I would.

"How about tomorrow?" I suggested, not quite sure why I was so agreeable.

"Uh, yeah! Tomorrow's great!" Mary Anne exclaimed, a huge smile breaking out on her face. "I have to go do some homework, but if you want to talk or anything, y'know, just… just come on in, you don't have to knock or anything."

Against my will, I smiled. Her quick speech and words tripping over each other was endearing; more like the Mary Anne from the old days of MaryAnneandDawnBestFriendsForever! "Okay. But I have homework too, so no promises." Her smile fell briefly, but lit up again, regardless as she nodded and left, closing the door gently behind her.

Homework could wait. Regardless of how irritated Abby had been with me earlier, I knew she would want to hear about this milestone. I picked up the phone and hit redial. Abby answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath. "Hello?"

"Abby! It's Dawn. Listen, you'll never believe this! Mary Anne and I are going to the mall tomorrow."

A pause, then: "So?"

"_So?_ Abby, Mary Anne and I haven't spoken in months, in almost a year! This is big!" I exclaimed, unable to understand why she was acting like this was so unimportant.

"Yeah, because you were such a huge bitch to her. So you've finally gotten over yourself. Do you want a cookie or something?" Her voice was cold, and the ice in her tones stung.

"Abby, I thought you'd be happy for me." I hated the way my voice was quivering, but I couldn't understand how in a week, she'd gone from begging me to understand her secret to shutting me out completely, derisive at what I considered a triumph, and something akin to loathing in her words.

"Happy? Yeah, I'm happy that you've finally stopped being awful to your sister." Another pause, then she sighed. "Look, Dawn, I'm sorry. I'm just not in the best of moods. My mom went to visit Anna today and she's not doing well. We thought she might be able to come home soon, but she's gotten worse, and they don't know how to help her."

My heart sank, and I immediately felt like the most selfish person on the face of the planet. Here I was worried and excited about my step-sister and I getting along when it was my fault that we weren't in the first place, and Abby's life was falling apart. "I'm so sorry. What do they think is wrong with her?"

"What do you mean?" Abby asked, her voice sounding strange.

"Well, I mean, you said they didn't know what was wrong with her," I explained. "What's she doing?"

"Sh-she's… she's uhm…" Her stammering threw me for a minute; why wouldn't she answer? "Look Dawn, it's none of your business, okay? Stop being so nosy!"

The anger in her voice startled me and I rushed to try to change the subject, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to tell you about Mary Anne and me. I didn't realize…"

"Yeah, well, have fun with your new best friend," she all but spat at me.

"What? Abby, I _asked_ you to come with me to the mall, and you told me to leave you alone!" I defended myself, head spinning.

"And you couldn't do that, could you? Learn to take a hint, Dawn!"

_Click._

She had hung up on me. I set the phone down in a daze, blinking rapidly. What had just happened? Abby had gone from angry, to apologetic and upset, then defensive and back to angry in several seconds. The rush of emotions made me dizzy and I lay on my bed, fingers pressing at my temples to ward off an oncoming headache. Knowing Abby, being friends with her, seemed like being on a roller coaster. Climbing the hill, the rush of adrenaline and happiness as I sped towards the ground, and then all of a sudden, she threw me for a loop.

Still, I wasn't going to give up on her. It was all too common for me to desert people during hard times, and it was a habit I was determined to break. After all, I _had_ been pushy and insensitive – her reaction was perfectly normal, considering that her friend was gushing about going shopping with her sister when Abby's twin was in a state mental hospital. Really, it was my fault, and a mistake I was going to rectify. I vowed I'd get her a "cheer up" present tomorrow when Mary Anne and I went shopping. And maybe when she was ready, we could talk about Anna.

**A/N:** Sorry for the short length and sub-par quality; I'm suffering from huge writer's block and I thought if I forced myself to write, it would get easier. I promise the next chapters will have more plot, rather than just setting everything up for action.


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